


Worth It

by ShaneShenanigans



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 13:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4668404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneShenanigans/pseuds/ShaneShenanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes things are a little more complicated that requital. Sometimes you jump anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth It

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Handers in canon and with my newest Hawke-- who doesn't really have a name, I just call him Garrett.
> 
> Just kind of compiling some slightly angsty, mostly fluffy plot bunnies that have been nagging at me for these two.

He was sore, and tired, but the knocking persisted. It was gentle, slow. Not frantic like a distraught patient or harsh like a templar on the hunt. Ever since he’d met Varric his mind had been much more at ease about templars coming around, but he remained wary.

He pulled himself up, slowly, and silently appreciated his own ability to wake up in something other than a cold sweat and heaving breaths.

Another soft knock— he wished that, if it was indeed someone he knew, they’d announce themselves. If only to set his mind at ease.

He approached the door quietly, and came to a stop outside it.

“Who’s there?” He asked, and then quickly cleared the frog from his throat.

“Not a templar.” A familiar voice sounded with no consideration for volume, and Anders paused for a moment before a small smile twitched at the edge of his lips. Any tenseness that was left in his body melted away, and he lit the lantern to his right before reaching for the small, rusting chain on the door to open it.

Hawke stood in front of him, arms crossed over his chest, looking large and towering like always. It always felt that way, like he was monstrous, even though Anders was taller than he was— except there was one thing off.  

“You’re soaking wet.” Anders blinked.

Hawke reached up to pinch a few strands of hair that stuck to his forehead. “It was raining.” He said, simply.

“Come in.” Anders waved at him quickly. There were a few only half-scorched logs for a fire. He moved to them and began quickly rearranging them to best hold a flame.

“You don’t have to do that.” Hawke said, his voice a little harsh, but Anders was used to it.

“Don’t be an idiot, this is dark town, you’ll catch something.” He lit the fire, and ignored Hawke’s irritated sigh. He then stood to face Hawke, dusting the old ash off his hands.

“You should stay near the fire.” He suggested. “You’ll dry faster that w--.” Before he could finish the sentence, Hawke had, in one swoop of a step, wrapped his arms around Anders and pulled him in tightly against his chest.

He didn’t say anything, and Anders was lost for words. Hawke’s head was buried in his shoulder, the wet from his clothes and hair was soaking into Anders’s robes.

Anders swallowed hard, and he carefully raised his hands to placed them on Hawke’s back, curling the tips of his fingers into the soft spots of his armor. Hawke had put on armor and got soaking just to make it through lowtown and darktown to come here.

Anders laughed under his breath at the irony. From an estate in Hightown surrounded by riches to this underground dump, and Anders thought it was necessary to start a fire for him.

“What’s so funny?” Hawke’s voice boomed and Anders sucked in his lips, he didn’t want Hawke to think he was laughing at him. But the damage may have been done.

“Nothing.” Anders shook his head, and held Hawke more tightly. It didn’t take, and Hawke immediately released him, and backed off. Anders reluctantly let him go.

Moments of silence passed, and then… “I got a letter from Bethany.” Hawke said, nothing but casually, but Anders’s ears perked up at the name. Hawke had been a wreck after the deep roads. He hadn’t shown it, he never seemed to show anything. But over time Anders had figured out the signs.

“Oh? Is she doing all right?” Anders asked, carefully, trying not to betray his concern.

To his surprise, Hawke sighed, and rubbed his neck, looking down and around. “She… blames me.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Anders protested.

“Wasn’t it?”

“We saved her.” Anders insisted.

“You saved her.” Hawke’s tone became loud, and harsh again, and Anders glared. It was almost too easy to make him angry.

“So, what, you’re mad at me for that?” Anders offered, and found himself surprised when Hawke’s eyes widened, and then he immediately became small. He ripped away from Anders’s gaze, and turned away.

“This isn’t why I came here.” Hawke said, quietly. With frustration, but quietly.

Anders calmed himself as well, and let his gaze drift off, before slowly approaching Hawke. “Why did you come, then?” He asked.

“I felt alone.” Hawke answered quickly, sternly.

The words sent chills down Anders’s spine, not because of the hardness of tone, but because of what it meant. Hawke was lonely, so he came here. Not to the Hanged Man to drink with Varric, not to Fenris who was only a few blocks away. Here.

“I’ve…” Anders spoke, softly. “...updated my manifesto, if you want to hear what else I’ve gathered.”

Hawke laughed, but it wasn’t condescending or scornful, just… gentle and amused, and Anders was glad to hear it.

“Of course I do.” Hawke answered, shooting him one of those rare smiles that made his heart beat a little bit faster.

o-o-o-o

“You need to work on your tone.” Hawke criticized, and Anders’s ears perked up with slight disbelief. “It’s too aggressive-- I mean, sure people like me who already agree are going to love it, but if you want to catch the interest of anyone on the fence--,”

“Sorry, hold on.” Anders interrupted. “Did you just say I need to work on my tone?”

Hawke looked confused.

“Ser shouts-at-everything-until-it-submits just told me to work on my tone.” Anders took a moment to let that sink in. “I don’t know how to take that.”

Hawke scoffed. “Okay, Ha. Ha. But I’m serious.” He pointed to one of the pages. “Like here, you even used an exclamation point.”

Anders looked. “Ah. I think I was more angry than usual that day.” He considered Hawke’s words, though part of him wasn’t sure how much he cared for the opinion of anyone “on the fence.” He wasn’t looking to sugar-coat, but maybe there was a line. Then again, maybe there wasn’t.

“It’s great material though. Where did you learn all of this?”

Anders sighed, and stood, taking the pages away from Hawke to put them away. “The Circle, mostly. And I have a few contacts that bring me resources if I need them.”

Hawke stood. “Well.” He said, stretching his legs out a little. They’d been sitting for a long time. “I’m motivated.” He went on. “What was it you said when I first met you? The Knight-Commander’s head on a pike?”

Anders laughed lightly. “I can never tell when you’re serious.”

“I’m always serious.” Hawke answered, though seemingly with humor. “Come on, don’t you want to go set fire to the templar’s quarters now?”

“Now?” Anders snickered. “I’ve wanted to do that my whole life.” He was fiddling with things on the table in front of him, facing the other way. “Most of them would get out anyway, hopefully a few of the worst wouldn’t.”

“I’ll lock the door.” Hawke volunteered, and that was when Anders started to hear the footsteps in the dirt behind him, and the way his voice had gotten a little louder.

When he turned around, Hawke was standing directly before him. Almost completely dry now, arms crossed lightly over his chest, which for once wasn’t puffed out to look bigger than everyone else.

The giant, thick biceps didn’t exactly make him appear small, though.

“You don’t talk about what happened to you in the circle much. You mostly just talk about circles in general.” Hawke said. “I’m asking knowing full well how angry it’s going to make me.”

Anders sighed, and tried to walk around Hawke, effectively avoiding the subject for now. “It wasn’t that bad for me." He lied. Maybe Hawke saw the lie-- he probably did, usually did. But Hawke chose not to press, so Anders went on. "Not as bad as it was for some others-- particularly the women." The hint seemed to hit Hawke in the gut and his eyes widened and softened at the same time. He wanted to reach out, but seemed to stand by Anders's preference to keep the mood light. "Most of the other mages would tell you anything that happened to me there was my own fault.” He laughed wryly as he sat back down on the bed he used for patients.

“That’s ridiculous.” Hawke barked.

“That’s what they do in circles. They brain-wash you.” Anders said. “Bethany was lucky to have you looking after her or she might’ve ended up the same way. Hardened, at least. She’s… sweet now. She seems to have an innocence.”

“I’m afraid the Wardens will do that just as well.” Hawke spoke bitterly. “If there’s talk of another blight I’ll tear apart Thedas to bring her away from that.”

Anders was silent, he didn’t know what to say that Hawke didn’t already know. So instead he lifted his hand, and placed it gently on Hawke’s wrist. He never would have dreamed of comforting Hawke this way in the past. Hell, he could even admit now that at first, Hawke had scared him.  
  
He was uncontrollable. Strong, hard, and nothing could stand in his way. He destroyed anything he didn’t like and ignored most everything else. He was working toward something without looking away, but Anders wasn’t sure what it was. He didn’t think Hawke knew what it was either.   
  
But most importantly, by whatever twist of fate, Hawke was on _his_ side.

Hawke was looking at Anders’s hand on his wrist, just silently staring, and that made Anders hesitate, and move to pull it back. Immediately, Hawke turned his arm over and caught it. Anders jumped, before realizing that the hold was gentle. It was almost a surprise that Hawke was capable of that.

“Anders.” The word was a breath, and the sound of it sent sparks from Anders’s heart to his stomach as his heart beat up into his throat.

Anders stood quickly, but he let his wrist still be held. “I should get some sleep before everyone else wakes up.” He excused himself quickly. And just like that, Hawke dropped his hand, and Anders pulled it to his side.

“Right.” Hawke said. “Sorry to have kept you up.”

“It’s fine.” Anders said. “I’m glad you came.”

Hawke’s words caught in his throat as he started to speak, not even sure what he was going to say. He couldn’t find the words, so he turned hard on his heel, and left the clinic.  
  
o-o-o-o

Varric was keeping his distance today, it was obvious that Hawke was in a particularly sour mood by the way he’d broken an already bled-out slaver’s neck over his knee before moving on. That was only shortly after crushing one of the archer’s skulls under his boot.

Isabela seemed to find it amusing, Anders was entirely pretending not to notice while seeming a little terrified, and Fenris didn’t seem to realize anything was out of the ordinary. He was probably too busy doing the same things. But that was normal for Broody with slavers.  
  
But Varric wanted to get him alone and talk, because when something was bothering Hawke, it was only a step away from being everyone else’s problem, too.

Even Maleficar seemed to be slightly wary of him, like he could sense the do-not-approach aura despite his usual everyone-is-my-best-friend-let’s-play attitude.  
  
Varric found an opening in low-town when Hawke, Fenris, and the dog were up front wreaking havoc and Isabela was admiring the blood stain on her boot, to pull Anders aside.

“Blondie.” He whispered quickly. “Do you have any idea what’s up Hawke’s ass today?”

Anders feigned ignorance just as fast. “Doesn’t he always have something up there?”  
  
“More than usual.” Varric scoffed. “And don’t play dumb, one of my contacts saw him heading to dark town late last night, and since I didn’t hear of any mysterious deaths, where else would he go?”

Anders sighed. “Nothing happened. He just got a letter from his sister.”

“I know about the letter.” Varric said. “He told to me about it yesterday, and he wasn’t this pissed off.”

“He was fine when he left the clinic.” Anders barked, a little defensively. “Maybe you should ask him.”

Varric sighed, and released Anders just as Hawke turned to face them. He regarded their closeness for just a moment, glared noticeably as his eyes shifted between them, and then turned back around to move on.

o-o-o

The five of them split up rather suddenly once Hawke was finished doing his favors for the day. He just said “I’m going home now” with more blood than usual splattered on his face, and then he left the four of them in slight confusion.  
  
Varric found out later from Isabela that Merrill had turned him down for all of his errands because he “seemed extra scary” that day. 

Varric was planning on leaving the Hanged Man when he walked down the stairs into the lounge and bar area. But that plan was entirely deleted from his mind when he saw Hawke, sitting alone at one of the tables, drinking from a mug with two more in front of him. He couldn’t tell whether they were full and waiting or already emptied, but he didn’t know which was worse.  
  
“Andraste’s knickers, how much have you had to drink?” Varric asked once beside him.   
  
He watched Hawke’s eyes merely narrow, likely at the intrusion, but not move to look at him before he downed another gulp of whatever Hanged-Man-Special he had in that mug.   
  
Isabela had been watching Hawke from across the room for quite some time. She’d deduced that he knew she was watching, and just didn’t care. Now that Varric had approached, she decided it was time she did the same.

“This is interesting.”She leaned over the table after placing one hand flat on it and smiled. “Never figured you for the type to drown your sorrows.”

“I’m not drowning anything.” Hawke barked immediately. “Well. Not sorrows anyway.” He scoffed, and took another mouthful.  
  
“Now, Varric.” Isabela placed a finger to her lips. “Let’s think.” She walked around the table-- the way she did, with that little hip swing. Suddenly Hawke came up with what might’ve been another way to get his mind off… other things, but he didn’t voice it. “What in the world could make our Hawke get himself wasted, all alone?”

Hawke elected to avoid acknowledging these words. “Varric.” He distracted himself. “I saw some of your contacts headed to dark town earlier.”

“Hn?” Varric shrugged. He’d already silently observed that the other two mugs were, in fact, empty. Hawke could hold his drink, but Varric had never fully observed just how well.  
  
“Yeah. I called in a favor to check on Blondie. He seemed as off today as you did.”

Hawke scoffed, slamming the mug down immediately, and then quickly bowed his head as if hoping no one had noticed.

“Why did that strike a nerve?” Varric teased. Isabela was still silently observing Hawke to the right.

“Nothing.” Hawke huffed. “It just-- I wish he…” He shook his head. “He doesn’t have to be down there all the time. If he’d spend a little less time trying to save everyone and a little more looking after himself--”

“Careful, Hawke, you’re throwing-up words.” He snorted. “But I get it, we know you have feelings behind all those angry faces and rage.”

Hawke grunted behind his drink.

“Though, I wish you’d worry about me like that.” Varric smirked, and Isabela laughed in the realization.

“Oh, I get it. You’re smitten.” She said, nudging Hawke’s foot with hers. He moved it away. “Must be hard to have to deal with a problem you can’t just stab through the skull.” He glared hard at her, and then at Varric, feeling a bit cornered.

“Hawke.” Varric cut in. “It’s not a secret. There’s something… unique in the way you treat Blondie, also in those love-struck eyes you adopt when he walks into a room. Which, by the way, are disturbing on you.”

“Here’s an idea!” Isabela chimed again. “Invite him to your estate. Say you need to talk about-- I don’t know, mages or something. Have Bodahn let him in, direct him to your room where you’ll be lying down, completely naked, on silk sheets.” She ended the sentence with a roll of her tongue and a sly grin.

“Isabela!” Varric protested.

“What?” She huffed. “I was enjoying the picture that painted.”  
  
Varric looked back to Hawke, who quite transparently seemed to be quietly considering it. “Hawke!” Varric shouted, putting an end to that. “Just tell him how you feel! We know you’ll need practice but use words.”

“I don’t want to.” Hawke answered simply.

“Don’t want to what? Tell him, or having feelings?”

“Both.” Hawke grumbled. “He’s… busy anyway. Saving mages. He doesn’t have time for whatever this is.”

Varric shook his head. “Look.” He leaned over the table to catch Hawke’s attention. “I didn’t want to have to spell this out, but remember when I mentioned your love-struck eyes?” He said.

Hawke just looked back at him, waiting.

“Well, try that times ten when you were walking out of the clinic the other day, along with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on that sad mage’s face.” He snickered.

Hawke was still just staring at him, but Varric could see the hope his eyes betrayed now.

“Invite him over, Hawke. Don’t tell him what for, he’ll come.” Varric advised. “Just tell him when he gets there.”

o-o-o

Anders never got used to showing up on Hawke’s doorstep. He couldn’t believe that the Hawkes had gone so quickly from that little shack in lowtown to an entire estate. But Hawke certainly had the friends, contacts, resources, and determination to achieve something like this. He was born into a noble family and had quickly found a way to make himself noble again.

He knocked, and he could hear Bodahn’s immediate voice reacting to the sound from inside, though he couldn’t make out what he was saying.

The door opened, and Bodahn greeted him immediately. “Messere Anders! Messere Hawke told me that you’d be by. He’s in his quarters.” He stepped aside and gestured Anders inside with a welcoming outstretch of his hand.

“Thank you, Bodahn.” Anders smiled as he walked in. “Hello Sandal.” He greeted, and received a “hello” in return. The servant Hawke had hired nor Leandra were anywhere in sight, he noticed,  as he moved toward the stairs.

He took a deep breath outside Hawke’s door, and looked down at himself. He’d tried to clean up before he left-- but cleaning up in dark down was like trying to get rid of a smell while standing in a garbage pit.

Standing beside Hawke, he’d effectively look exactly like the virtually homeless man he was.

The door was open a crack, so there was no sense knocking. So he let out his breath slowly, and pushed the door open.  
  
Hawke didn’t acknowledge him at first, just stayed standing at his fireplace-- the man had a fireplace in his bedroom.

Anders cleared his throat, not sure what else to do. “Hi.” He said, gently. Hawke had been in a bad mood all day, so he figured it was best to tread lightly.

Hawke looked to him, and then away again, one arm falling to his side, the other rubbing his neck.

“You wanted to see me?”

Hawke huffed. “Don’t say that like we have an appointment.” He started tapping his foot, and turned to Anders, one hand still on the back of his neck. “Let’s go somewhere.” He said, and it sounded commanding but by the way he stood there, waiting for an answer, Anders knew he was asking.

“Like where?” Anders asked. “A picnic in lowtown? The hanged man? Not many places to go in Kirkwall.”

Hawke let out a harsh sigh. “We could kill something.” He said. “Some guys at the bone pit have been telling more dragon stories. Might be something.”

Anders regarded him quietly for just a moment. “You think just you and I could take down a dragon?” His tone was full of disbelief.

“You wouldn’t have to do too much.”

Anders let out a short, sharp, mocking laugh, and walked further into the room. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m less the “go looking for a fight” mage and more the “fight when I have to.” He casually sat down on Hawke’s bed, leaning backward on his hands.

“Templars then. Noble cause. The Knight-Captain seems like an ass.”

“Hawke!” Anders barked. Hawke snickered. He was joking. He was actually joking. So much for his bad mood.

Anders tensed when Hawke walked over and sat down next to him on the bed. Hawke sat down just a little more than a foot away, and that was just a little too close. Anders stood up immediately and moved away.

“Anders.” Hawke said, his voice was quiet but firm.

“Hawke.” Anders said back, with added hardness. He knew Hawke wouldn’t say anything. Hawke wasn’t good at speech. He preferred to shout at things or stab them repeatedly until they twitched and spasmed on the ground in front of him.

“You’re running away.” Hawke accused, and Anders was surprised at the words. “All I did was sit down next to you.”

Anders looked back at him, a little confused at the confrontation.

Hawke scoffed, and leaned forward, looking down at the floor in front of him. “Varric said he saw something… when you looked at me.” Hawke was almost mumbling, Anders could barely make out the words and didn’t know if he was supposed to reply. “Maybe he’s wrong.”

Hawke stood suddenly, slight aggression in his step at first, then regression when Anders met his eyes. Anders stood, and waited, watching him with wide eyes. Hawke looked… maker, he looked small, he looked nervous.

“I like you.” He said, weakly. “Everything you do and everything you’re working toward, I think it’s amazing and that you’re amazing. I wish… I could help more, I wish I had more to say, I wish I could stand beside you through everything you’re doing.”

Anders was frozen. Every word was processing much more slowly than Hawke was speaking. He wanted to hold tight to every word, every single one of them and store them away for later.

“Also…” Hawke paused. “I think you’re....” He stopped, and fumbled for the right word “...attractive.” He settled, but spread his arms out in defeat, as if ashamed of the things that were coming out of his mouth.

Anders had to look away from him at that last line, trying to hide the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

“So. I just wanted to say that.” Hawke then crossed his arms over his chest again, and forced himself to look Anders in the eye, and waited.

Anders considered, for just a few moments, and then he looked up to Hawke with a grin. “Do you want to go somewhere?” He offered. “Like maybe, slay a dragon?”

Hawke seemed on edge for a few moments, but then nodded once, quickly. “All right.”

o-o-o-o

Anders’s feet hurt. In addition to walking around all day with the others, they’d been out searching for this alleged dragon for what felt like hours. Hawke seemed overly determined, almost like an excited child, and Anders didn’t want to take that away from him. But at the same time he wasn’t sure the soles of his shoes were going to last much longer.

“I don’t want to be the one to spoil the evening, but what if there is no dragon?” He finally spoke up.

Hawke turned immediately. “You’re tired?”

Anders had been caught. “Well, now that you mention it…”

“I’ll carry you.” Hawke decided, and immediately started walking toward him.

“What?!” Hawke held out his hands. “Wait--,” He was scooped up princess-style before he could get another word out, and nearly dropped his staff in the process.

“Hawke!” He barked. He felt ridiculous. Hawke started to walk forward with a smug smile, as if he’d claimed a prize. Anders could feel that his face was hot and probably beat red. Hawke was having no trouble carrying him like this. Either Anders was as light as he looked or Hawke was as strong and he looked. Probably both.

“Better?” Hawke asked.

Anders huffed. “What are you going to do when we actually find the dragon?”

Hawke considered. “Kill it.” he decided.

“I meant with me.”

“Kiss you?”

“I meant in regard to the dragon breathing fire at us!”

“Use your body as a shield.”

“That’s it! Put me down!” Anders started flailing and kicking and Hawke, taken by surprise, almost immediately dropped him.

“Sweet Andraste! Hawke!” Anders almost landed on his ass, just barely hitting his feet and flailing his arms to stay balanced until Hawke caught one of them, and pulled him upright. Upright happened to end up being directly in front of him, both his hands on either wrist, holding them at waist height like they were about to start some kind of two-person dance.  
  
He still had that smug smile.

Anders quickly tore his hands away and rubbed them off on his robes as if Hawke’s were filthy. “We’re going home.” He decided.

“My home or your home?” Hawke offered. Before Anders could answer, a loud shriek from above took them both off guard. They both looked up just in time to see an enormous dragon overhead, three times the size as the one they’d fought in the deep roads.

“Maker! That’s a fucking high dragon!” Hawke jumped up in the air, throwing his fists toward the sky like he was trying to punch it. For a split second Anders thought he was going to chase after it, but then he grabbed Anders by the sleeve and tugged on it to get his attention.

“Run.” He said, short, sweet, and too the point before he took off and Anders didn’t waste a second chasing after him.

He followed Hawke back into the caves, looking behind him every other step, but the high dragon was nowhere in sight. Maybe it hadn’t seen them?

With his head turned back to look over his shoulder, Anders ran smack into Hawke’s back, and nearly fell backward as he stumbled. Hawke had stopped.

“What?” Anders barked, and then a small squeaking sound drew his eyes a little to the right of Hawke and in front of him.

The squeaking persisted repeatedly, and a smile stretched over Anders’s face, and his eyes lit up.  
  
There was a cat, curled up on what looked like someone’s jacket, watching them intently with both her paws outstretched and kneading the jacket between her toes. Anders knew the cat was a she, because against her underbelly as she lay, were four kittens, shouting and nursing all at once. Their eyes were closed and their fur was still coming in, but they sure knew how to talk.

Hawke lowered himself to crouch where he stood. “The workers must’ve had a pet cat.” He observed.

Anders didn’t waste time with caution, he passed Hawke and approached the mother cat, who was clearly in the mood for some petting by the way she raised her head against his hand and began to purr.

“No.” Hawke stood up immediately at the sight.

“What?” Anders looked to him with confusion.

“You’re not taking them home.”

Anders’s eyes narrowed. “They’ll die here, get eaten by a dragonling or worse.”

“Anders, you can barely take care of yourself.” Hawke urged. “Besides, they’re just as likely to be eaten in darktown by the refugees.”

“I can’t leave them here, Hawke.” Anders kneeled down and touched one of the kittens gently. It meowed at the contact, then got back to work suckling. “Maybe we could home some of them?”

“Where?” There was a slight mock in Hawke’s tone.

“I don’t know, does Fenris need a friend? Merrill? Aveline!” Anders tried.

Hawke crossed his arms over his chest, and sighed, looking away from Anders’s pleading kitten eyes. “I’ll take them.” He mumbled.

“Sorry?” Anders stood.

“I have an estate with more rooms than I’m using. I’ll take them.”

“You also have a giant attack-mabari.”

“He attacks on command. He doesn’t know how to kill anything but bad guys.” Hawke sounded rather defensive of his darling.

Anders thought about it for a few moments. Hawke was really volunteering to adopt four kittens, for him.

“I love you.” He said, and he watched the words hit Hawke like an arrow, in fact he visibly flinched. Pretending not to see the reaction, Anders turned his attention to the kittens.

“I can carry the kittens out in my bag, if you can take the mom?” Anders offered as he gently started to nudge at one of the kitten’s mouths to detach it from the nipple.

“...Okay.” Hawke said. He wasn’t sure he was capable of saying more than that.

o-o-o

The kittens settled in nicely in the guest room. Orana had taken an immediate interest, though she tried to hide it, so Hawke gave her the task of caring for them. A charge which she seemed legitimately excited for, despite her feigned excitement for most other things.  
  
By the time the kittens and their mother were asleep, Hawke and Anders were nearly as exhausted.

“I never want to go home.” Anders spread his arms out on Hawke’s couch. “I’m definitely adopting one of them.”

Hawke stood over him with his arms crossed. “Okay, but it’s staying here.”

Anders smirked. “Are you worried about Ms. Whiskers?”

Hawke gagged on his own spit. “Your names are awful.”

“It’s a work in progress.” Anders shrugged, and then sat up. “I should probably get home before nightfall, unless you plan to escort me.” It was a rhetorical question, and he was already standing and preparing to leave.

“Do you have a patient?” Hawke asked.

“None that I know of.” Anders shrugged. “But I’ve been gone all day, someone may have shown up looking for me.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Hawke said, “It’s not like they pay you. You’ve got no obligation.”

“I do it because I can, Hawke.” Anders said. “Doctors and nurses only get you so far, and there aren’t any other mages in Kirkwall that will heal someone who can’t pay, not to mention without putting coin in the Knight Commander’s pocket.”

“I want you to stay.” Hawke said, bluntly, not looking at him. Anders scoffed lightly at the demanding tone of Hawke’s voice, and started toward the door. Midway through his first step, Hawke caught his wrist, and Anders looked back at him.

“Please stay.” He said, much more diplomatically than aggressively.

Anders deflated a little, and then sighed. “All right. If you’re going to give me those eyes.”

“Eyes?” Hawke glared as he released Anders’s hand.

Anders snickered. “They’re gone now.”

o-o-o-o

“What are you reading?” Hawke sat down next to Anders on the couch to try and see what was on the page.

Anders closed the cover and read the title. “The Maleficar Imperium.” He read, and then opened it again to the page he was on. “Seems like a load of crap.” He mumbled.  
  
“I don’t mind if it’s crap if it’s about Tevinter.” Hawke grunted.

Anders hummed, but said nothing.

“What?” Hawke narrowed his eyes.

“Well, it’s true that Tevinter being the center of the slave trade has given it a well-earned bad reputation. But this book doesn’t even mention that beyond the concept that “mages will always overpower and try to enslave the rest of us just like in Tevinter.” He scoffed and closed the book. “The politics of Tevinter themselves beyond the slavery are corrupt, but no more than Orlais.”

He set it down on the seat next to him. Hawke wasn’t well-versed in any of what he was saying, but he did note that Anders looked tired.

“Mages are always on the wrong side of history.” Hawke was sure he was quoting his father, or Bethany, or maybe Anders himself, but the words made much more sense to him now.

“Not in Tevinter.” Anders said, humorously, shooting Hawke a forced smile, to which he received a blank frown, and Anders looked away from him somewhat sadly.

“We could always go there.” Hawke offered, clearly joking, and managed to coax a more light-hearted smile out of Anders, who waved him off.

Anders sat silently for a few moments, then spoke. “Sometimes I feel like I’m winning when I’m with you, Hawke.” He said, gently, quietly. “Then I read things like that and I remember how far away I am.”  
  
Hawke regarded him quietly, becoming anxious over the somber exhaustion in his eyes, silently searching for the words that would help. He didn’t find them.

“Justice is getting loud.” Anders said, sighing as he rubbed his head as he leaned back against the couch. His eyes were closed, and Hawke watched as he released a slow sigh.

Anders opened his eyes slowly, to find Hawke had slid a little closer, and that he’d leaned in. He was looking at Anders’s eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Moments passed, and Hawke’s eyes drifted to Anders’s mouth alongside a soft, but frustrated sigh.

Anders slowly, somewhat shakingly, lifted a hand to his face, and held it gently in his palm. Hawke’s eyes immediately flicked back up to meet his, and he instinctively leaned in a little further, then paused, where Anders could feel soft breath against his cheek.

They shared a gaze, during which Hawke was sure he was going to melt, and then--

Anders sighed harshly, and leaned forward suddenly, pressing his lips lightly to Hawke’s, who for a few moments remained still. He sucked in a deep, shaking breath, and then turned his head and closed his eyes, and quickly lost all semblance of control.

His hand slid over the inside of Anders’s knee, gripped his thigh tightly to pull himself closer, harder against his mouth. He turned his head against his mouth to push Anders deeper into the soft, red cushions.

Hawke was overpowering but gentle, frantic but careful. His hands slid roughly, greedily up Anders’s thighs, waist, and sides, but his touches were soft as a butterfly’s when he brushed a strand of hair from his face.

“Anders.” Hawke spoke his name before he realized the kiss was over, and Anders opened his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Anders said, softly.

“Don’t.” Hawke asserted. “Don’t ever apologize for doing that.”

“I don’t want this for you.” Anders said, and Hawke could feel him half-heartedly pushing him away with one of his hands, while holding tightly onto the sleeve of his robe with his other. “This will never turn out well. Everything I am is dangerous and--”

“I want to stand by you through it.” Hawke said. “I already told you that.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I don’t care.” Hawke blurted, then backed up. “I mean, no. I do know. I know, and it’s what I want.”

Anders looked away. “Maybe you do. You did protect Bethany for so long, but… do you really want that again? With me? Am I worth it?”

“Worth what?” Hawke’s voice held a slight growl. “Bethany wasn’t a burden, and neither are you.”

Anders looked at Hawke’s eyes, searched them for something-- though he wasn’t sure what. Confirmation that his words were true beyond a shadow of a doubt, perhaps? But they could never be. Anders knew what he was. But he also knew what he wanted.

“Say what you said to me at the Bone Pit again.” Hawke said, and Anders looked away.

“I was just talking then…” Anders mumbled. “...I was just happy.”

“I’m happy too. Right now.” Hawke said, firmly. “And I love you.”

Anders’s body shook at those words, and his heart pounded against his throat, he felt his eyes start to well and threw himself forward to throw his arms around Hawke and bury them in his shoulder to hide them.

  
“Thank you.” He didn’t mean to say that, but it came out, and he fumbled for the right words to follow. It came out in a ghost of a whisper, but Hawke heard it “Love you too.”


End file.
